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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



WATSON-JONES, Inc. PRINTERS 



TWO PLAYS 

and a 

RHAPSODY 



KATHARINE HOWARD 

Author of "The Book of the Serpent," "Eve," Etc. 

First Edition 






PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR AT 

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA 
1916 






©CI.A453140 

DEC 18 1916 



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TO 

MY SISTER CHARLOTTE 



COPYRIGHT 1916 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

In Thirteen Scenes 

Written in the ancient forest above the 
Castle of Chillon, 1911. 

PLACE 

The Imagination 
No Time — No Plot 

CHARACTERS 

THE LADY GODELAIRE 
THE LORD 

YNiDE AND YNiAL — Their Children. 

THE OLD NURSE 

THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 

— Some may call his name Death and some 
may call his name Life — 



SCENE FIRST 

An ancient forest. A man and a woman, 
both young, are walking slowly. They are 
follozved by the old nurse of the young 
woman. 

The Woman 

This wood is full of mystery. Do you 
remember the fairy tale about the Princess 
who slept a hundred years, and how the 
Prince awoke her with a kiss ? I think all 
women are like that, they sleep until the 
kiss awakes them. Do you remember how 
she followed him through all the World, 
as I would follow you? 

The Man 

One must follow something — as one 
star wanes another brightens. 

The Woman 

Once you followed me. What do you 
follow, now that I follow you? 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Man 

Always the thing- most beautiful. There 
is something which calls me on. 

The Woman 

I also. There is a voice I hear that calls 
me to high places. 

He 

You do not understand. 

She 
Can you not teach me? 

He 

No — Woman is like a bird, it is but in- 
stinct that she has. (A forest bird sings 
joyously a little way within the wood.) 

She 

And Woman is like a bird? That is a 
lovely thing for you to say, for birds have 
wings. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

(She stops to gather moss and shows it 
to him.) See, it is like a fairy forest. We 
are like that fairy tale. — We seek, we 
know not what, but there is something in 
this Wood for us to find. 

He 

To find and conquer. Man is a con- 
queror. . . . 

She 
And Woman? 

The Man 

(Touching her caressingly.) 
She is a slave — 

She 

How do you mean a slave? To Man or 
Fate? 

He 

She is a slave because she is a woman. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 
She 

She is a slave throug-h love — but in the 
end, if she is like a bird, her win^-s will 
free her . . . See ! A light falls on the 
path — we must be near the edges — near 
that unknown country which lies beyond 
the wood . . . 

He 

It is a clearing in the forest. Stop a 
moment and send the Nurse before . . . 
{She sends the Nurse before.) Your hair 
glows in this light . . . (He loosens it so 
that it falls around her.) You are the fair- 
est woman in the world and you are mine. 
Guard well your beauty, and if we meet 
with strangers in the wood, arrange your 
veil so that they may not see. 

She 

Sometimes I tremble for fear that you 
may see a fairer woman. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

He 

Have you seen hair longer or silkier or 
of lovelier colour? Have you seen eyelids 
longer lashed? Or lips that set a wreath 
of whiter pearls? 

She 

Sometimes I wish you loved me for my 
soul, not for my beauty only. 

The Man 

Give me your lips. I love them best 
when they are silent, pressed to mine. A 
Woman's mouth is made for love, — except 
for words of love, speech does not matter. 
{They embrace and walking slowly they 
come into an opening in the wood.) 

She 

See! the brightness and the towers 
which rise beyond. 

He 

It is a Palace . . . 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

She 
A Rose Garden . . . 

He 
All is silent, — I see no person. 

She 

But the fountain plays . . . 
{He calls and no one answers . . . He 
knocks and no one comes.) 

She 

Here is an inscription. . . . See — it is 
the House of Future. It is that which we 
sought unknowing. — But the Master, — 
where is he? 

The Nurse 

My Lady, speak not of the Master, lest 
one may hear, I know strange legends of 
this place. 

The Man 

Speak then if there is somewhat that 
you know. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Nurse 
I have heard legends. 

The Man 

You have heard, and you have heard. 
What is it you have heard? What is the 
Master's name? 

The Nurse 

I cannot speak the name lest some one 
waiteth near — I am afraid. 
He tries the door, it opens freely. There 

is no person there. — Again he calls. — 

There is no sound but echo. 

He 
We will enter, the Master is away. 

She 
Do you not think it is prepared for us ? 



SCENE SECOND. 

The Lady with her old Nurse in the 
Rose Garden. 

The Lady 

I wish my Lord would come. Have 
you not noticed how my beauty wanes at 
times? 

The Nurse 

No — No — My Lady is most beautiful, 
the mirror is not true. 

The Lady 

My Lord's eyes are my mirror, — I see 
the waning there. Is it so with all men, 
that they love beauty only? 

The Nurse 

There is a legend that tells how in some 
distant land across the seas, there is a race 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

of men who are not hunters, and who love 
faithfully like women. 

The Lady 
I wish I knew that land. 

The Nurse 
It is a legend. 

The Lady 

What name have these strange crea- 
tures which my Lord hunts day and night ? 

The Nurse 

No rightful name that I can speak, My 
Lady. Some call them birds of pleasure, 
some birds of prey. — They are not really 
birds. 

The Lady 

I wish my Lord would bring one home 
for me to see. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Nurse 

Oh, no! My Lady, they never bring 
them home. When they have captured 
them they keep them hidden. They are 
the creatures of the dark, and lose their 
beauty in the clear sunlioht. 

The Lady 

Tell me more of them. — You said there 
is a leoend. 

The Nurse 

The le.8:end tells that they are creatures 
whose souls have been destroyed. 

The Lady 

How can that be? Souls are eternal. 

The Nurse 

I know not, — 'tis what the legend tells. 
The young are beautiful to see and soft 
to touch. Their beauty does not last be- 
cause they have no souls. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Lady 

It is only the beauty of the soul that 
lasts. 

The Nurse 

The leg-end says. — They bathe them- 
selves in streams and lie amono^ the 
branches of the trees, letting the long gold 
tress that grows upon their heads hang 
down to dry. The legend says, it is this 
yellow tress which makes the Lords go 
hunting them. 

The Lady 

Why do they live in trees? You said, 
they are not really birds. 

The Nurse 

Because they once had wings, before 
their souls were killed. I know not, — 'tis 
what the legend tells. 

The Lady 
Tell me, tell me, are they Women? 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Nurse 

They might have been had they not lost 
their souls. 

The Lady 

And what becomes of them? 

The Nurse 

The legend says, that when they lose 
their beauty they steal away into the 
woods and die, or, if they do not die, they 
become beasts of prey and destroy souls. 

The Lady 

I w^ish that I might help them to get 
back their souls. 

The Nurse 

I have heard, — it was my grandmother 
who told me, — that once there was a lady 
who disguised herself, and lived among 
them hoping to find their souls. It is a 
long tale, but in the end, the beasts of prey 
devoured her. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Lady 

I think it may have been that their souls 
were taken from them to save them suf- 
fering How peaceful it is among 

the roses in this garden Come. 

We will walk in the long corridor. Each 
day a door swings open at my touch that 
was firm locked before. Each chamber 
has been beautiful. Some days I fear to 
enter — they can not all be so. That door 
of sandalwood must guard a treasure, the 
carving is so fine ; the hinges and the lock 
are gold. Perhaps the magic wand is 
there. I hasten through the other rooms 
longing for this. 

The Nurse 

Unless you find the golden key that fits 
the lock you cannot enter. . . . Unless — 
a little child may take you by the hand — 
Sometimes the key is given to a child . . . 
The magic wand is in that chamber. 



SCENE THIRD 

Several days later in the long corridor. 
The Lady Godelaire and the Nurse. 

The Lady Godelaire 

Through all the house there is a feeliui^ 
that somethino;- arrives. Do you not think 
the Master comes ? 

The Nurse 

Ah! The Master, — I have heard, — one 
never knows when he is coming except by 
signs and omens. I too have had the feel- 
ing that something comes — the cat has 
washed herself three times this day and 
the hounds bayed in the night. 

The Lady Godelaire 

The hounds bayed? That was because 
My Lord returned. (She touches the doors 
on either side of the corridor lightly as she 
passes. ) I do not know what has come over 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

me this day. I have the sense of someone 
near — and I have heard a fluttering as of 
wings. . . . She touches another door, — 
a narrow zvhite door that shines — Oh! . . 
It is this door which opens — a Httle room 
— a divan and a mirror, — let us rest and 
see what happens. . . . It is Hke a room 
where one receives. . . . Listen! I hear 
a sound — it is a httle sound. . . . There — 
again — Do you not hear. 

The Nurse 
No — My Lady. 

The Lady (Listening) 

It is the crying of an infant. It is shut 
away somewhere. — Oh ! ... It hurts my 
heart — I must go search for it. . . . Help 
me to search. (She listens by the zvall.) 
It is somewhere through this wall. (She 
searches along the zvall.) Ah! . . . this 
panel is a door — it leads somewhere. But 
the cry is farther ofit'. . . . Help me to find 
the cry. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Nurse 

Ah! — My Lady, it is by passing 
through the torture chamber that you may 
find it. The cry is in the place beyond. 
. . .No! My Lady! Do not touch the 
panel ! ... It will open if you touch. It is 
the torture chamber, and they will take 
away your youth and bits of your beauty 
— they will tear away with instruments of 
pain. 

The Lady 
Oh ! . . . How do you know this ? 

The Nurse 

There are some things one knows when 
one is old. 

The Lady Godelaire 

What shall I do! {SJie listens — she 
hears the cry again.) Oh! there is some- 
thing more than beauty. There is some- 
thing stronger than myself. . . . it is that 
little cry, it has the force to penetrate these 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

heavy walls. It cries to me, all else is sil- 
ence beside that little cry which is so 
mighty that it forces the entrance to my 
soul. (SJie touches the panel.) 

The Nurse 

My Lady ! My Lady ! the torture ! that 
you must bear alone 

The Lady Godelaire 

It matters not. If I return no more, — 
adieu. {She presses the panel, it opens 
slightly.) 

The Nurse 

Ah! My Lady! do you forget your 
beauty and my Lord? 

The Lady Godelaire 

The cry. . . . It is so little that it over- 
whelms all things. (She pushes open the 
panel and goes through. It closes slowly 
after her.) 



SCENE FOURTH 

In the Rose Garden. 

The Lord, and the Lady Godelaire. He 
is about to depart for the Hunt and holds 
his hounds in leash. The Lady Godelaire 
wears a lon^ veil of lace that falls from 
her head and covers all her form. 

The sound of distant hunting horns is 
heard throu^^hout this scene. 

The Lord 

Why do you wear the veil ? Lay it aside 
and let you hair fall in this light, — I 
would compare its length and colour — 
surely it is the longest. Remove the veil 
so I may see. ( The horns sound nearer — 
the hounds pull at the leash. The Nurse 
comes, hearing in her arms a little child. 
The Lady smiles and takes the little one 
into her arms.) 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Lady 

See ! See ! My Lord . . . She is far love- 
lier than ever I have been — it is the little 
Ynide. 

The Lord 

You should have given me a son to bear 
my name. 

The Lady 

But you will stay and learn to love her, 
will you not? 

The Lord 

A Man has other ways of passing time 
than nursing infants. ( The child holds up 
her arms to him.) What? What? Now 
if it were a son. . . . Well ! Well ! when 
she is grown she may be good to look upon 
and make some grand alliance. {He 
throws the leash of his hounds to his serv- 
ant and takes the child suddenly into his 
arms. She C7'ies. He gives her quickly to 
the Nurse and goes. The hounds bay and 
the blare of the horns draw near.) 



SCENE FIFTH 

In the Rose Garden. . . . The Lady 
Godclaire, the Nurse and the little Ynide. 
The Lady Godelaire is touching delicately 
upon the strings of her lute a pavane of 
the moyen age. . . . The Nurse, after ti 
limping fashion is showing the little Ynide 
the different attitudes of the pavane. . . . 
The Lady Godelaire steps the dance as she 
touches it out upon the lute. . . . 

The Lady Godelaire 

See — it is a lesson Ynide, — hold up your 
little gown and try your steps. . . . The 
nurse dances coaxingly before the child. 
The scene is charmingly grotesque. . . . 
The Lady Godelaire laughs gleefully as 
the child dances before the nurse. . . 
She moves herself in rhythm with the air. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Nurse 

In my youth I was held in esteem as a 
hght dancer my Lady. I remember once 
stepping the dance with one of high de- 
gree. 

The Lady Godelaire 

Indeed, dear Nurse you are even now a 
brave dancer. ... Is not the child en- 
chanting? If my Lord were here, how he 
would love her childish grace. . . . 

The Nurse 

Three times the hounds bayed in the 
night. Something will come. 

The Lady Godelaire 

(Pushing aside the lute) We have been 
many times mistaken. . . . (The child 
flutters from rose to rose. . . . The Lady 
Godelaire and the Nurse zvatch her intent- 
ly, their gestures reflect those of the child.) 
. . . See how she flies from flower to 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

flower — Ah! she would embrace the fra- 
gile thing's. . . . The little Ynide runs sob- 
bing to the Lady Godelaire. There is a 
stain of blood upon her hand. 

The Lady 

No — do not cry — it was a thorn — all 
roses have their thorns. . . . There, I will 
kiss the pain away and you shall sleep for 
I will sing to you. (She cradles the child 
in her arms and sings softly an ancient 
lullaby — to the air of Merlin au Bcrceau.) 
Dors done mon enfant mon enfant dors 

done. 



SCENE SIXTH. 

The same day — in the long corridor. 
The Lady Godelaire and the Nurse are 
walking slowly, up and down. 

The Lady 

Always I feel the sense of someone near 
— of something" mysterious in this house. 
. . .of things unknown ... of things 
that are not seen except through vision of 
the soul. 

The Nurse 

One does not reach my age without 
knowing- that there are things unseen. — 
Beasts are aware. . . . they see the spirits 
of the dead and they see fearsome things 
that walk at night and hear them too. . . . 
Else why would the hounds bay in the 
night — if there were nothing near? 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Lady 

The hounds bay — dreaming of the 
Hunt. . . . Ah ! \\'hen my Lord returns, 
I hear them far down the forest — herald- 
ing his approach. 

The Nurse 

I have heard legends. There is that 
legend of the owl that screeches in the 
night . . . fearsome it is. 

The Lady 

Listen ! I thought I heard a sound. . . . 
(She pauses in front of the door of the 
ante chamber. It is the little zdiite door 
that shines.) Listen! I thought ... I 
thoujjht I heard a sound. . . . 



♦?>' 



The Nurse 

Ah! Something arrives. . . . (The 
Lady Godclaire listens at the door. . . . 
She pushes — it opens slowly inward.) 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Lady Godelaire 

Ah ! it is as I thought. . . . Again the 
cry. . . . Do you not hear? 

The Nurse 

No ! No ! My Lady ! the cry is not to me 
— it is not tuned. to me ... I cannot hear 
it. (Impatiently.) Do not Hsten — it is 
enough — you saved the other. 

The Lady 

Oh! But it pierces through my heart. 
(They enter — she sits upon the divan — 
she listens, she hears the cry.) . . .Again 
that torture chamber where all the floor 
was golden with my hair. . . . 

The Nurse 

It is below your shoulders now, My 
Lady and beautiful. 

The Lady 
I will send some one to save the child. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Nurse 

No one can find the cry but you, My 
Lady, no one can hear but you. 

The Lady 
Again the cry. . . . No . . No ... I 
will not go ... I will not listen. (She 
buries her head in the cushions of the 
divan, hut still she hears the cry. She rises 
and throws aside her veil, her hair falls 
like a cloud around her — she looks into the 
mirror . . . ) I have regained my beauty, 
that I lost. 

The Nurse 

But if you lose again you will not, for 
your youth has gone, it will not come 
again. 

The Lady Godelaire 

Listen ! Listen ! Can you not hear ? I 
know the voice ! It is my son who cries to 
me to bring him to the world ! — She hur- 
ries through the door of the torture cham- 
ber. 



SCENE SEVENTH. 

At ni^ht. The chamber of the Lady 
Godelaire. She stands by a loner window 
zvhich opens on a balcony. A gossamer 
veil of zvhite is all about her like a cloud. 
The moon shines on her. . . . The Nurse 
is on the balcony. Lights from below are 
reflected on the ceiling of the chamber. 

The Nurse 

Yes ! Yes ! My Lady ! It is as I thought, 
the Master has arrived. 

The Lady 
No ! No ! It is my Lord, I hear his voice. 

The Nurse 

There is another — do you not hear? . . 
a slow calm voice of one who has control. 
. . . It is the Master of the House. . . . 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

Oh ! hide yourself, my Lady. I have heard 
that each time the Master comes he takes 
away a guest to his great castle, and they 
return no more. . . Oh ! there are strange 
tales told, but no one knows the truth . . . 
Some say the castle is so beautiful they 
will not leave it and they forget, . . . and 
some, that there are dungeons from which 
none escape, . . . dark dungeons under- 
neath the ground — so narrow that they 
can not turn. 

The Lady Godelaire 

Be still — be still, and let me hear. ( The 
reflected light of torches passes along the 
walls and ceiling, a strange heavy sound 
is heard, and voices.) 

A Voice 
I pray you give me time. 

Another Voice 
You have had time. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The First Voice 

I pray you g-ive me time to bid the Lady 
Godelaire farewell. 

The Other Voice 
You have had years to say farewell. 

The First Voice 
I pray you, only a moment. 

The Other Voice 

My guests await you, you must come 
with me. 

The First Voice 

I pray you, I pray you, only a moment ! 
I would see the Lady Godelaire to bid 
adieu — she will wait and wonder that I 
do not come. 

The Other Voice 
She has waited and you have not come. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

First Voice — Calling 

Godelaire — Godelaire — Adieu ! Adieu ! 

The lights and shadows pass along the 
ceiling. There comes the strange heavy 
sound again — and all is silent. . . . 

The Lady Godelaire recovers as one 
awaking from a dream. . . . She rushes 
on the balcony and cries — Adieu! Adieu! 
My Lord. — She returns through the win- 
dozv, ivceping. Oh! My Lord . . . He 
has not seen his httle son. . . . 



SCENE EIGHTH 

Some years have passed. The Lady 
Godelaire talks with the Nurse in the Rose 
Garden; the roses are withered and the 
foliage sere. She stands gazing at the 
withered garden. . . . As she speaks a 
light s J lines from her. 

The Lady Godelaire 

The little Ynide, she suffered. Oh, she 
suffered, and when He came. He touched 
her and she smiled and went to sleep. He 
took her gently while she slept. Just for a 
moment I saw His face and He seemed 
neither man nor woman, but an Angel. 

The Nurse 

It is the second time and each time in 
the night. The third time that the Master 
comes will be for me. The little one will 
need me. It may be as you think, that He 
is kind. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Lady Godelaire 

I feel quite sure that He is kind. The 
little Ynide suffered and He took her pain 
away. The moment that He touched her 
the pain was gone. That moment I felt my 
wings grow strong. I thought I must go 
with her, but that I could not leave my 
son. (A light shines from her as she 
speaks.) We will ascend the stairs of the 
high tower and walk in the Blue Loggia. 

The Nurse 
The stairs are steep, my Lady. 

The Lady 

And the Loggia high . . . after the 
dimness of the long ascent it is as Heaven 
must be. . . . The blue light glows, and 
afterward it stays with me. 

The Nurse 

It is the light within you that shines 
out, my Lady. 



SCENE NINTH. 

The Blue Loggia. 

The Lady Godelaire and Ynial. She 
wears a long black mantle — there is a 
white band about her brow, a zvhite veil 
falls about her, and a light shines from her 
as she moves. All around there is a won- 
derful blue light that scintillates. As far 
out as she can see, there is the wonderful 
blue light. 

Ynial 

When will you wear your wings again, 
Mamma? 

The Lady Godelaire 
My wings, Ynial? 

Ynial 

You did not know I saw you for I came 
softly, and then — I thought you were an 
Angel, and I went away — I was afraid. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Lady Godelaire 
You would not fear an Angel? 

Ynial 

You were different, Mamma, your veil 
had fallen off, and your black mantle. All 
I saw was wings and a bright light that 
shone from you. You talked with some 
one. . . . Who was there, Mamma? I 
saw no person. Were you praying? Why 
do you wear the ugly mantle? It hides 
your wings, — they looked so soft and 
beautiful. May I not touch? Where are 
my wings. Mamma? (She embraces him.) 
Will I not have wings? 

The Lady Godelaire 

When you are ready for them, but first 
you have your quest. 

Ynial 
What is a quest. Mamma? 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Lady Godelaire 
It is a seeking". 

Ynial 
Shall I not be a hunter ? 

The Lady Godelaire 

A hunter after stars. It may be that 
a light will shine for you, and you will 
seek and find. 



SCENE TENTH. 

On the stairs of the high tower. The 
Lady Godelaire and the Nurse. 

The Nurse 

My Lady, you should not climb these 
stairs to the Blue Loggia. The steps grow 
steeper day by day. My Lady, you are 
too frail to climb. 

The Lady Godelaire 
And you, dear Nurse, too old. 

The Nurse 

Yes, my Lady, — too old . . . too old 
... I heard my name called in the night. 
The Lady Godelaire touches her lovingly. 



SCENE ELEVENTH VISION. 

THE FLIGHT. 

Her Voice 

These blue and amethystine mists that 
fall beneath us as we cleave the air, — what 
are they? 

The Answering Voice 

They are the veils of Evening which 
descend. 

Her Voice 

Those shining piled up clouds — are they 
the mountains of the Dawn? That one 
with rainbow coloured wings who passed, 
was he an Angel? 

The Other Voice 
A winged soul. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 
Her Voice 

I see a shining- . . . far up among the 
mountains of the clouds. The columns 
reach the sun. ... I see towers beyond 
towers up-streaking . . . and high arches 
. . . high arches lessening down the vista 
of their aisle. . . . Towers transcendently 
entrancing. Towers of my dream woven 
radiant city . . . and those far reaching 
dim islands of the sky . . . cloud islands 
of my dreams. My vision is made whole. 
. . . Every motion of my wings enhances 
the radiance of those towers. . . . 

Towers of Enshrinement, are they not? 
May I fly there? 

The Answering Voice 
There is no limit. 

Her Voice 

I have no weariness, I am all ecstacy 
and luminous. I do not need to speak, 
only to think. Are all the angels so? 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

Have they one language of the soul? I 
was afraid to fly, but when you touched me 
all my fear was gone, — I could fly fast and 
free. . . . Ah ! . . . My memory comes — 
You are the Master of the House. . . . 
How strange I should forget — But with 
my memory my weariness returns. . . . 
Where is My Lord? 

The Other Voice 

You will forget him, until his soul has 
gathered strength to waft his wings. 

Her Voice 

There is a weight that pulls me down, 
— it drags my left wing down. ... I hear 
a voice that calls to me. It is the voice of 
Ynial. Where is the little Ynide? 

The Other Voice 

Where the great shining is among the 
pillars reaching to the Sun. 

Her Voice 
I hear the voice of Ynial. I will go 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

back to the Blue Loggia and put away my 
wings. May I go back? 

The Other Voice 

Much is given to the souls of Mothers. 
I will wait until you call and come again 
for you. 

The Voice of Ynial 

Mother ! Oh ! I have called and called — 
and could not waken you. ... I found 
you lying here, close to the step that leads 
into the blue. At first I thought there 
were two Angels — but there is only you. 
. . . Mother! You should have been 
awake to see. The wings were shining 
everywhere. . . . 



SCENE TWELFTH. 

Many years have passed. 
The Lady Godelaire and Ynial in the 
Rose Garden by the fountain. 

Ynial 

Mother — I have heard a voice. It called 
to me to come and do my work. To me 
alone it called. . . . Something is lost 
which I must find — and Mother I saw a 
light that shone — it seemed to make a path 
for me. ... It was the same light that I 
have seen shining from you. 

The Lady Godelaire 

My son. . . . She presses her head 
against his shoulder. 

Ynial 

No — do not fear. I will not go, I will 
not leave you here alone. My Mother. 



THE HOUSE OF FUTURE 

The Lady Godelaire 

You must go, Ynial. You have seen the 
Hght and you must follow where it leads. 
... I will be there, Ynial. . . . Come to 
the Blue Loggia after a little, and you will 
understand. (She embraces him.) 



SCENE THIRTEENTH 

Ynial — Alone. 

She is not here. . . . No. She is not 
here. . . . Her mantle — and her veil — 
close to the step that leads into the blue. 
. . . Ah! I understand — it was for me 
she staid. . . . Now I remember the angel 
and the light. She was the Angel — but I 
did not know because she hid her wings. 
. . . Now I understand. She wore the 
mantle to conceal herself. . . . 

He gases far out into the blue. 

Again I hear the call. . . . There are 
wings all about me. ... I hear. ... I 
hear — It is more than music — and I see — 
I see the light. . . . It is herself — She is 
the light — and she has gone to show the 
way. . . . 

Chords of celestial mtisic sound from 
afar — nearer and nearer they sound — ab- 
sorbing and surrounding all. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE. 



KATHARINE HOWARD 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

Written February 1910. 
Bsuzec— Conq— par Concarneau, Breta^ne, France. 

SCENE— EARTH 

An Old Person. A Young- Person and 
the one with echoing footsteps 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

TWO PERSONS. ONE OLD AND ONE YOUNG 

The Old Person — says 

No! No! My child, pray do not enter 
there. 

The Young Person 

Oh ! but I must, I am compelled, a spirit 
leads me. 

Old Person 
What does the spirit say, my child? 

Young Person 

The spirit says — This is the house of 
Life — enter, it says. 

Old Person 

Oh! but knock on the door my child — 
knock thrice upon the door. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

Young Person 

There is no need to knock, the door is 
swingins;" open. Come — enter you — I 
would not be alone — still, I am not afraid. 
They enter. 

Old Person 

No — do not close the door — the en- 
trance is so dark. . . . How dark the hall, 
and narrow. 

YouxG Person 

Here is another door, the key is in the 
lock. ... I am afraid ! Let us turn back. 
Oh! Oh! I cannot see the way — the en- 
trance door is swinging^ shut. . . . 

Old Person 
The door has shut, we must go on. 

Young Person 

Open you, this door. The key is rusty 
in the lock. . . . How the door creaks. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

Old Person 

Here is a stairwa}^ — let us mount. . . . 
See how worn the steps. How many feet 
have climbed them. . . . 

Young Person 

There is no one now — we are alone. 

Old Person 

I have a strange weird feehng — as if I 
had been here before, a feeling that I can- 
not speak — like a foreboding that some- 
thing tragic lies beyond. ... I wish we 
had not entered here. ... I wonder — is 
it a dream or is it real. . . . Here is a tab- 
let in the wall — read you — I am too old, I 
cannot see. . . . What says the tablet ? 

Young Person 

The few go on — the many pause. There 
are but two ways now — either go up — or 
through this door. . . . 

Old Person 
I see no door. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

Young Person 
It is a secret door and hard to see. 

Old Person 
Where does the door lead — does it say? 

Young Person 

No — not in words — there is an arrow 
pointing down. ... I am afraid — let us 
go on. 

Old Person 

Yes — we will climb these stairs — these 
stairs are little worn. . . . Do you hear 
footsteps ? 

Young Person 
They are echoes. 

Old Person 
Listen! I thought I heard a voice. . . . 

Young Person 
Only the echo of our own. . . . Come 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

— are you tired — the reason why you 
mount so slow — so wearily? 

Now we have reached the landing. See 
what a broad and sunny hall! 

Old Person 

It seems quite pleasant, but we do not 
know what lies beyond. 

Young Person 

No need to think of anything beyond — 
we will stay here where it is pleasant. . . . 
Oh ! There is a door that looks as if it led 
into a closet. I will open it and see. 

Old Person 

No! No! My child! You frighten me! 
Open no closets I pray — I pray you keep 
the closets closed — I would the doors were 
sealed. 

Young Person 
They may be full of treasures. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

Old Person 

It is better not to know. . . . It is no 
echo. I hear a footstep. . . . There — do 
you not hear it? Now — it is coming 
nearer. 

Young Person 

I feel that I have ahvays heard it. . . . 
It comes for me. . . . 

Old Person 

How long it seems since we two entered 
here. . . . 

Young Person 

Yes, it was long ago. You must stay 
here and rest for you are tired. I will go 
to meet him. When you are rested we 
will return for you. . . . 

Old Person 

It is the echoing footstep of my fore- 
boding. Always the echo. . . . Do not go. 
She goes to meet him. They pass on to- 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

gether through the house of Life. They 
come to a sunny windozu with a broad 
seat — cushioned soft and deep. . . . He 
says, — Let us rest here. 

She 

Yes — we will rest here. From this win- 
dow we can see across the valley to the 
far hills. 

He 

Now there are clouds — dark clouds — 
and now the rain. . . . We can see noth- 
ing now — save through the mist 

She 

But we are happy — sunshine or rain — 
we are together. 

He 

The cushions here are soft. We will 
stay here. The clouds are passing. . . . 
How fertile the valley is. 

She 

This is a strange lovely room — it is full 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

of beauty. I will see what is contains. 
SJie zi*anders restlessly about the room. 
Here is a picture in a frame of gold. 

He 

What says the picture? 

She 

It is the window scene, but far more 
beautiful. 

He 

How can that be. How can it be more 
beautiful ? 

She 

I know not — but it is. . . . It speaks to 
me of dreams and lovely thoughts. It 
rests me into happiness. . . . He comes 
and looks with her. 

He 

Yes — it is beautiful. It is the artist's 
soul that speaks to us. We think his 
thoughts and share his ecstacy. What is 
the name across the corner — can you make 
it out? 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

A silken curtain slowly draws before the 
picture. 

She 

I do not like these drawing curtains and 
these closing doors. 

He 

There are few pictures on these walls — 
they have been taken down and stand in 
corners — turned toward the wall. 

She 

Let us go on — these drawing curtains 
please me not. 

He 

The window seat is pleasant. Why- 
look ! The curtains are drawn there. Why 
did you close them? 

She 

I did not close them. Come let us go. 
We have been a long time here. 

He 

Let us go on. How many corridors 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

there are — and all must lead somewhere. 
... So many doors and each one differ- 
ent. 

She 

We will go through this corridor, the 
carpet here is softer for our feet — it must 
lead to some stately chamber. . . . 

Here is the door — how fine the carving 
is — I am half afraid of doors — you open it. 
He opens the door into the Hall of Mir- 
rors. 

She 

Oh! How enchanting — how glad I am 
we chose this corridor. . . . Now I can see 
myself in every way. . . . There are closets 
between the mirrors — there must be love- 
ly gowns. I will array myself. 

He 

No! No! You please me as you are. 

She 
There is fascination in these mirrors. I 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

never looked so well before. Do you not 
think so? 

He 

I see no difference. Let us go on, there 
is nothing here but glitter. 

She 

See! There is another woman — it was 
not myself I saw — There is another ! And 
another ! Fairer than L They are looking 
at you from the mirrors. They seem to 
know you. Who are these women? 

He 

I see no woman there but you. . . . But 
there are men. 

She 

The reflections of yourself. . . . The 
hall seems full of people. They are reflec- 
tions of the people who have looked into 
these mirrors. . . . 

He 

The reflections of our other selves. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

She 

How cloudy the mirrors grow — a mist 
has come upon them. 

He 

Come away. I do not see you in the 
mirrors now. I see a woman old and worn. 

She 

Let us go quickly. I am so tired of 
mirrors. I wish there were no mirrors 
in the world. See ! . . . there are cobwebs 
hanging from the frieze. I am afraid. 
Why did we come into this hall. I wish 
that you had chosen some other corridor. 

He 

There is no one here, and yet I feel as 
if we pushed our way among a crowd. Is 
it so with you? 

She 

Yes, yes — give me your hand and let 
us hasten. These are dead pleasures — the 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

struggling ghosts of long dead pleasures 
— trying to bar our pathway. ... I hear a 
sound of weeping. Ah, me! I hear the 
voice of a young child. This is a house 
of grief. I wish the entrance door had 
been thrice barred against the time I en- 
tered here. . . . Those women were so fair. 
They seemed to know you. 
He 
All this is fantasie — a spell has come 
upon you. 

She 

Alas ! There is no other door — we must 
return through the dead pleasures and 
the misty mirrors. Let us go quickly. . . . 
Those women beckon you. Let us go 
quickly from this place. . . . They pass 
back through the jcarved door into the 
corridor. The door closes silently behind 
them. They come to a gothic archzvay and 
go through into the place of Meditation. 
There is absolute silence. After a time a 
sound comes out of the silence. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

She 

Listen ! Do you not hear ? It is far off. 

He 

No — it is near. It is like the wind in a 
great forest. ... Or like the rhythm of the 
surf. 

She 

It is like the song- of birds in the spring- 
time of the World. ... It rests me after 
the bewilderment of mirrors. . . . These 
gothic arches are all one with the sound. 

He 

They are the overcurving branches of 
forest avenues. The roof. 

She 

It is too much of ecstasy — it cannot last. 
(The music grows more solemn and ma- 
jestic. . . . It is a funeral march. ) 

Always this suggestion in the house of 
Life. . . . There — it is over, it seemed a 
thousand years. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

He 

It was because we heard the echoes of 
the aeons since Time began. The Funeral 
March of Time passing to Eternity. . . . 
The light grows dim. They go out and the 
doors clang shut behind them. 

She 

Why can we never stay — why must we 
be forever moving on — why must we leave 
the pleasant places? 

He 

Where are the others who have gone 
before ? 

She 

Here is a door with writing on it. Do 
not hurry — let me look — (She reads — The 
Closet of the Secrets — Open Not — She 
turns the key — the door opens slowly in- 
'ward of itself — He tries to draw her away 
but she will look. . . . She clings to him 
pale with fright. ) Ah, me ! Ah, me ! Why 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

did I ever live to know such horror! . . . 
She told me not to look — she must have 
known — and you ? You knew and yet you 
live? Are all the closets full of horror? 

He 

I am a man — and strong, all men must 
know. 

She 

Where is the woman who entered here 
with me? So long- ago it was, I left her 
there to rest. ... I had forgotten her. Take 
me to her. 

He 

You had forgotten her? . . . Who was 
she? 

She 

Take me to the place where I left her. 
The doors ! It may be that the doors are 
barred. They find their way back to the 
place where she had left the woman. She 
is not there. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

He 

It is so lon^^ ago. Where can she be? 

She 

The secret door at the foot of the stairs. 
She may have gone that way. . . . Yes 
here it is — it has been opened — she has 
gone this way. She opens the door — it 
opens hard. . . . A cold mist rises that 
chills them both with dread. . . . They see 
only a fezv steps leading down and all he- 
low is dark. . . . An invisible something 
rushes past them through the open door 
— the house is filled with muMed footsteps 
and whispering voices. 

She 
Close the door. Oh! Close it quickly. 

He 

But the voices and the footsteps — we 
cannot drive them back to the place 
whence they came — already the house is 
filled with them. 



THE HOUSE OF LIFE 

She 

Oh why did I forget. How long ago it 
seems — how tired she must have grown 
of waiting. How kind she was — now I 
remember when it is too late. 
— They cannot close the door, and chilled 
with the damp mist, they climb the stairs 
again. The steps grow steeper as they 
struggle up. No corridors entice them — 
they keep on until they reach the roof of 
the house. As they go up the doors clang 
shut behind them — there is no going back. 

He 

What now? The night is dark. 
She 

I see a star. . . . Look! There are 
many stars. 
They wait upon the roof. 



A RHAPSODY 

Written in Florence, Whitsuntide, IQ12. 



KATHARINE HOWARD 



A RHAPSODY 

The Spirit of the Future took the Poet 
by the hand and walked with him. . . . 
They walked along the edges of the tides 
in the shadow of great clififs until they 
came to the Place of Caverns — and they 
went into that cavern where the echoes of 
the Past were sleeping. . . . The Spirit 
said, — tread lightly that we may not wake 
these echoes before they are refreshed. 
It is not time to wake them, it is the early 
dawn. There are great things to do, and 
if we wake them they will disturb us with 
complainings — they need to sleep until the 
light is strong so they may see to find their 
places in the Harmony. 

And so — because the time was not yet 
come to wake the echoes of the Past — the 
Poet walked in silence — but he thought 



A RHAPSODY 

^^reat thoui^hts — and when the silence 
overpowered him he expressed himself in 
sculpture or painted beauty which revealed 
his soul. 



Again the Poet walked, and after wan- 
dering through the night he came to the 
place where the Queen of Dawn sat on a 
hill — around her were the girls of Morn- 
ing — burnishing and braiding the gold 
strands of her hair. . . . 

Down in the valley — the simple people 
said, — it is sun-fire that burns, — but to the 
Poet, knowledge was given by the desire 
for beauty — and he alone of all men knew 
it was the shining of her hair. . . . From 
looking at the bright strands of her hair 
streaking the mists of Dawn — he grew a 
keener vision — he saw halos around the 
heads of Mothers and their children — and 
wings that drooped from shoulders of 
young maidens — and youths who wore 
their swords of destinv sheathed on in 



A RHAPSODY 

chastity. . . . Deep in the eyes of old men, 
he could read the broader knowledge 
which they had of Life — the gracious 
charity and insight which their years had 
given them in judging the affairs of youth. 



It was Whitsuntide, and the Poet walk- 
ed the streets of a great city. The peo- 
ple were crowded and pressed together 
everywhere and all the air was full of par- 
ticles of unclean dust. 

Around the city there was a circle of 
green hills and there were trees and 
brooks and many flowers — but when the 
Poet looked he saw no people there, — and 
while he wondered, a little child came to 
him and took his hand and walked with 
him among the crowd. They walked to- 
gether a long way,— so that the child's 
hand grew warm in his, and beat with the 
same pulse. 

They came before a vast cathedral and 
the little child pulled at his hand and led 



A RHAPSODY 

him in. . . . There, in a threat space in the 
centre, walled about with .s^Iass, were many 
priests in vestments made of cloth of 
gold and wrought with precious g^ems, 
— and one priest sat on hi<:^h before them 
with all his g-arments spread in a g'reat 
glory and on his head a jeweled crown. 
Wreaths of incense arose from swinging- 
censers and myriads of candles burned. . . 
The priests bowed themselves in curious 
fashion and moved about continually, and 
as they moved a flood of music filled the 
place and rolled among the arches and 
possessed his soul with beauty. . . . Time 
was as nothing — and when he looked 
again ... it may have been a thousand 
years . . . the little child was gone — the 
music ceased — and while he looked upon 
the bowing vestments — there came a sense 
of vacancy and he looked closer and saw 
that they were empty — there was no life 
no soul in them — they were nothing but 
empty vestments that moved themselves 
from habit. . . . And he went out again 



A RHAPSODY 

into the street searching his lost illusion 
and the little child. 



Again the Poet walked — unconscious 
of surroundings, — for he was thinking 
deeply. 

He walked until there came to him a 
feeling of great rest . . . sweet odours 
soothed his senses and the air was fresh. 

He paused to look upon the world and 
found that he had climbed a mountain, 
and yet he had the sense of rest. . . . He 
remembered that somewhere in a moun- 
tain dwelt the spirit of Eternal Youth. 

Far down within the valley he saw the 
city shining in a golden mist, — her domes 
and towers fantastically grouped — and all 
the unclean dust that rose from her, 
touched into beauty by the magic of the 
sun. 

The while he thought upon this thing 
and wondered, — there came the longing 



A RHAPSODY 

for that young boy whose hand had been 
so warm in his. 

And while he thought, two girls came 
running, and pointing to the city, called, 
— behold the beauty that shineth far be- 
low! We are the slaves of a young boy 
and can not go. . . . Down in the city where 
the beauty is, — his enemy awaits to slay 
him. 

Is he the spirit of Eternal Youth? the 
Poet asked. 

Yes, but he sleeps, — they answered, — 
and so we gaze upon the city where we 
long to go. 

Show him to me, — the Poet said. 

And when he looked upon the sleeping 
boy, he recognized him for the same who 
walked with him, that Whitsuntide, the 
streets of the great city. 



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